#lookit the block men go

[bittydragon]

The Borrower of L’Manburg (Pt.2)

Notes: Hey y’all! My friend has got the second part of their story finished, it’s getting good!

Over the last month since your capture, you had gotten used to Schlatt's yelling and chaos on a usual basis. You sure didn't like it, but it's not like you could just ask him to shut up or quiet down. He didn't respect you whatsoever, he hardly even acknowledges your existence anymore- not that you were complaining. Your friendship with Quackity had grown in that time too. You've grown to trust him to carry you with him and take you some places around DreamSMP, though only when he has his suit on so that you can hide in his chest pocket. Neither of you wanted anybody else knowing about you, and you especially didn't want Dream to know about your interactions with humans. You've still kept your mouth shut, refusing to talk about your past to anybody.

In the last week or so, Schlatt and Quackity had been talking a lot about a festival that they were throwing, to 'celebrate democracy' or whatever. You hadn't paid much attention to it since Quackity told you that you probably shouldn't come, and it wasn't like Schlatt would allow him to bring you anyway. So, when the day came, you just tried to sleep through it. Unfortunately, fate has decided against you.

You wake up to the loudest boom you've probably ever heard, followed by lots of people screaming. You can faintly make out Schlatt's maniacal laughter, and a vaguely familiar voice that you can't quite place screaming, "Techno!" That name woke you right up, all the way. You hear the front door open and slam downstairs, and Quackity stumbles up the stairs in a rush.

"Holy shit. Holy shit." He's breathing hard, like he just ran a mile. His eyes are wide and he frantically motions with both his hands. "I saw it. T-Techno. He just-!" He's cut off by the door opening and closing again downstairs. He gasps, almost… scared?

"Oh Quackity! Guess who I got?!" Schlatt takes his time making his way up the stairs, but when he arrives, you gasp in shock. Between his fingers is another person- and he's your size. Schlatt has the back of their shrunken suit between his thumb and index finger, dangling him a block and a half in the air. He seems young, and he has scruffy brown hair. You can see a little bit of blood on his lip.

"That's… That's Tubbo! Be careful with him, he'll get hurt!"

"What do we care? He's a traitor, Quackity!"

"He's still just a kid, man!"

"What's your obsession with keeping these little things safe? Speaking of that…" Schlatt lays his eyes on you, his wicked grin sending a shiver down your spine. "Is this what happened to you?" He jostles Tubbo towards you, almost showing him off. "Did the piggy man get you? Oh no! Poor little 'villager' girl, scared of Technoblade." He pouts his lip and snickers. Your face heats up. What the fuck happened at the festival?

"Knock it off! Just give him to me, I'll take care of them both."

"Nah. I don't trust you with him. He's too important. I'm gonna put him in another box- another Tubbox! Do you like boxes yet, Tubbo?"

The kid looks at you with tears in his eyes, looking scared out of his mind. "H-Help…" he croaks. Before you or Quackity can do anything, Schlatt turns and walks away, not to be seen for the rest of the day.

~

When you wake up the next day, you hear the distant yelling of Schlatt, just like normal. But today didn't feel normal, especially with what happened yesterday. You don't hear Quackity's laughter and joking along with Schlatt like normal. After a little while of not caring to listen to their conversation, you hear striking against the Whitehouse. You tune in, but you can only hear fragments every now and then.

"Stop, dude! Stop! I built this!"

"I'm surrounded by pussies and soyboys! Help me destroy this or get the fuck off my property."

You hear an arrow slide back on a bow, and Schlatt scoff. "You won't do it. You're too much of a bitch." It takes a few moments before the arrow is released, and you cringe at the sound of Schlatt dying. He'll be returning from spawn any minute, and he'll be pissed.

Quackity runs up the stairs a few moments later, scooping you up immediately. "We gotta go, (Y/n)." You yelp in surprise and hug onto his thumb.

"What about Tubbo?" You've been worrying about him since yesterday. 

"I already got him, don't worry!" Quackity holds you close, hiding you against his chest as he moves. He speedwalks out of the partially destroyed house, making his way down the hill behind it and into the forest. When you look up at his face, he looks very upset.

"What's wrong? What happened back there?"

"Schlatt is… such a dick. He- I'm not," he sighs and slips you into his right chest pocket as he walks. "I'm not Vice President anymore. Schlatt was tearing down the Whitehouse and I tried to stop him. He just used me to get into power." You stay silent and slump down into his pocket, letting him talk. Quackity paces among the trees for a moment before turning back around and heading towards Manburg. "Should I even go back? Should I even fucking go back, man? Because… I don't even know anymore. I shot him."

Suddenly he freezes, and you can feel his body tense up. "Oh, fuck!" He takes off sprinting away from Manburg again, trying to keep his suit jacket steady, and you can hear the hooves of a horse running closer. You press your hands against the sides of the pockets to stop yourself from flying all over the place. "Fuck off, fuck off, fuck off! Ohoho shit!" He starts hiding behind trees. The horse slows down to a stop, and Quackity peaks out from behind the tree. "Take it off. All of it." You hear the clanking of armour being dropped on the ground.

"Why… Why did you just run off- Why are you in the woods, Big Q?" It's the same familiar voice as yesterday.

"Tommy…!" You hear a muffled voice whisper from the other side of Quackity's jacket, the left side chest pocket. That must be where Tubbo is.

"Uh… I… live here." They both pause and laugh lightly. "Listen, Tommy, we gotta talk." Quackity steps out all the way from behind the tree. You're not sure if you want to risk peaking out yet, but you figure you might as well just to see. You just barely peak your head up, only your eyes are visible over the pocket fabric.

"It's been a while, Mr. Vice President." The familiar voice, Tommy, looks about as young as Tubbo. He has blond hair and bright blue eyes.

"No, no, not Vice President anymore." He rubs the back of his neck and chuckles somberly. "Schlatt's an asshole. He's taking down the Whitehouse and going fucking power crazy."

"What are you saying, Big Q?"

"I wanna overthrow Schlatt. Maybe we can... work together or something…" Quackity mumbles.

"I mean, how do I know this isn't a setup?" Tommy glares.

You hear rustling as Quackity digs out a cloth from his left pocket, in which is holding Tubbo. "I-I brought Tubbo."

Tommy tilts his head, then looks around the forest. "Where is he then?" Quackity offers him the cloth.

"Tommy! I'm right here!"

Tommy's eyes widen and his jaw drops when he sees Tubbo. "W-What…?" He clenches his jaw and glares at Quackity, pulling out his netherite sword. "What the hell! What did you do to him?!" Tommy screeches, causing you and Tubbo both to cover your ears simultaneously. This kid is loud.

"I didn't do anything! I swear!"

Tommy sheaths his sword, and takes Tubbo in the cloth. "Tubbo, Jesus Christ man! Are you okay?" You see Tubbo look back and catch your eyes, then look back at Tommy.

"Yeah. I'm okay. Quackity kept me safe." Tubbo stutters. Tommy gives Quackity a nod in thanks.

"So… can we join Pogtopia?"

"'We?' Who else?"

Quackity looks down at you, and you hesitantly give him a nod of approval, closing your eyes as his hand comes straight at you. He pulls you out with cupped hands to show Tommy. "This is (Y/n). Schlatt captured her about a month ago."

You slink backwards as Tommy flips his shit, but keeps careful with Tubbo. "What the fuck! How is this happening to people?! Oh my god, it's a woman! Who is she?! I've never even seen her before!"

"She's told us that she was a villager."

"That looks nothing like a villager! Villagers are ugly!" Tommy laughs, making you giggle. 'I mean, that's fair.'

"That's not nice!" Tubbo scolds, then looks at you and smiles. "Hi!" You wave back at him with a smile.

"So, can we join you?"

"Okay, okay, fine. Follow me, Big Q."

Quackity stores you back in his pocket as Tommy puts his armor back on, and Tommy just keeps Tubbo in his hands as he and Quackity walk and talk. They laugh and joke like they're old friends. You have your head peaking out the whole way there, surveying the land. You've never seen this many trees pass by you so fast. By the time you arrive, the moon has risen and all the stars are out. Tommy breaks two blocks, revealing a little hidey hole in the wall with barely enough room for three humans.

"What? This is Pogtopia? This is-"

"No, shut up! Down this stairway." Tommy leads Quackity down a two by two spiral staircase, right down into a giant ravine. Quackity gasps.

"Holy shit, Tommy! Is this Pogtopia?" He looks around in wonder, as do you. The ravine is decorated with lamps and extinguished campfires, and it actually feels somewhat homely. 

"Yeah! Here, let me make a little space for Tubbo and then I'll show you around while we talk."

"Can we make a small room for Tubbo and (Y/n)? We can give them time to talk, too." You nod in agreement with Quackity, Tubbo probably needs some explanation.

"Yeah, yeah!" Tommy hands Quackity a diamond pickaxe, and they mine out a space about the same size as the room up the staircase, and Tommy places down two beds. He gently places Tubbo down in the middle of them, and Quackity reaches his hand in the pocket and plucks you out, thumb and index finger holding your sides.

"Here, you can probably explain everything to Tubbo, right (Y/n)?" He sets you down next to him on the beds.

You nod. "I-I'll do my best!" Tommy and Quackity walk out, and you wait until you hear their footsteps fade. You turn to Tubbo and sit down crisscrossed. "Are you okay? This must be difficult and weird."

"Y-Yeah… I'm doing alright. Just… processing everything." He fiddles with the cloth that he still has from Quackity.

"It was Technoblade, right?"

Tubbo nods. "I was just so confused. Wilbur told me he was on our side! And… Why didn't he just kill me? I would've respawned!" He sighs, frustrated.

"Wait, what? Technoblade is on your side? Is he here?!" You look around frantically.

"Well, I don't think so, not right now." He tilts his head in confusion of your panicked state. "Why? What's wrong with Technoblade?"

"He did this to me, too! He also… he killed my p-" You freeze at the sound of a new pair of footsteps, coming from somewhere close outside the ravine. They pass right by, all you can see is a raggedy trench coat flash by before heading up the stairs. You wait until you can no longer hear anything anymore. "N-Nevermind that."

Tubbo gives you a worried look. "Okay, I won't press you on it, I guess. But we are in this together, you know? We're in the same boat!" He smiles at you, reassuringly, and you nod with the same smile. You decide to change the subject.

"Your accent," you realize, "you're from L'manburg, aren't you? Tommy as well?"

"Yes! How do you know about that?" His eyes sparkle in excitement.

"I used to live there!" You smile at all the memories you have from your time living there, while messing with the blanket below you. "It was far after I got shrunk. I moved in after the war, I thought it would be safe for a while. Not long enough, apparently."

"That's awesome! I didn't even know you were there! You must be really good at hiding!"

"Not so much at running, though, since I got caught!" You laugh. The two of you joke and share stories until you hear three pairs of footsteps from above, coming down the stairs. You recognize one as Quackity, and figure that one of the other two must be Tommy. Speak of the devil, you hear the kid's voice.

"Okay, Wilbur, you can't freak out at this okay? Just… be calm!" Wilbur? You swear you've heard that name before. Oh, wait, shit. From Schlatt. You had almost forgotten through all the chaos today.

"That's a lot coming from you, Tommy!" Another man with a L'manburg accent quips as the three draw closer to the bottom of the stairs. You move closer to Tubbo just for the sake of feeling some sense of security. Tubbo, on the other hand, gasps in excitement.

"Wilbur!" He whispers to you.

Quackity walks in the room first, checking on you and Tubbo before motioning for Tommy and Wilbur to come in. You notice the raggedy trench coat Wilbur is wearing before watching his eyes widen and his jaw drop.

"Wh- Tubbo?! Is that Tubbo?!" Wilbur grabs Tommy's arm, but keeps his eyes on you two. "What the fuck happened? What is this?"

"Yes, that's Tubbo! He's been… uh… smallified!" Tommy makes up a word, making Quackity laugh, but Quackity stops when Wilbur shoots him an icey glare. Wilbur carefully makes his way over to the bedside, causing you to hide behind the cloth from Quackity. He pays no attention to you, however.

"Tubbo, what the fuck did Schlatt do to you?" You can see a flame in his eyes that seems to be intensifying by what he sees in front of him now.

"No, no, he didn't do this to me." Wilbur raises an eyebrow, sparing you a quick glance that you would've missed if you had blinked. "He really didn't! He just… took advantage of the situation." Tubbo looks down nervously.

"Well, what the hell happened then?"

"Well, it all started when you lost the election, and-"

"Tubbo, who did this to you, god damnit?"

"Technoblade!" He squeaks out.

"What the fuck? That bastard!" Tommy fumes. "Big Q, you didn't tell me that!"

"Well-!"

"Shut up, everyone," Wilbur commands as he stands up, "We'll talk to Techno about this when we see him. I haven't seen him in a while and I have no idea when we'll see him again, that's just how he is. So for now, that's a problem for future us." He looks at the other humans, and points at Quackity. "Quackity, you need to get to work on plan A. You know what'll happen if it fails, so make it work." He pushes past the two, and his trench coat flaps behind him as he walks out of the room.

Tommy and Quackity wait until they hear him get all the way up the stairs, then look at each other.

"He's lost it!"

"Oh yeah, he's gone completely nuts."

[bapyess1r]

Sunny Daze

WARNINGS: cursing, violence

Pairings: Sam x OC, Nate x OC

Chapter 5

Sunny’s POV

Pow! I gasped at the sound of gunfire. Leave it to Nathan to always end up getting shot at. “God dammit, Nathan…. You and your…. your goddamn brother…” I mumbled in irritation as I pulled a switchblade from my bag and cut a high split into my dress. I snatched my wig off and tossed it in the backseat. With an exasperated sigh, I posted up next to Sully to examine the situation. We watched as people fled the estate at the sound of bullets sounding off.

“Well I’ll be go to hell. You and Sam might’ve been right about taking guns with us.” Sully said, putting out his cigar.

“I’m never wrong about when you need a weapon. And if I am, it doesn’t hurt to be safe.” I shrugged, snapping the heels off of my shoes. It was a shame I had to ruin such pretty shoes. I groaned, taking a hard look as security began to scour the building. I made a face, placing my hands on my hips.

“What are you thinkin’, kid?�� He asked me. I ran my fingers through my short curls, feeling the air on my scalp.

“I’m thinkin’ Imma have to go after them. They could get killed…” I said, racking my brain to come up with a plan to find them.

“I’d start from the roof if I were you.” He suggested. I looked up at the massive building and groaned again.

“Because we couldn’t just rob a regular sized building…. It just had to be this behemoth…” I said walking towards the estate.

“I’ll bring the car around. Once you have the boys, meet me in the driveway.” He told me as he rounded the white car. “And Sunny…” I stopped in my tracks and turned to look at him. “Please be careful.”

I gave him the biggest smile.

“I’m practically invincible.” I smirked, reassuring him and pressing the button on my coms as I continued towards the building.

I climbed a pipe to the top of the estate, half crying as I looked down. ‘If I fall, that would be… not the best…’ I thought as I navigated myself across the rooftop. I spotted a guard pacing a balcony with a heavy AK-47 in his hands. I decided that was my gun of choice and climbed stealthily to him. I managed to edge my way to an area behind him and climbed up to position myself for a silent takedown. Jumping on his back to wrap my arms around his neck, I squeezed as hard as I could until the man passed out cold. I took the gun from him and patted his body down for extra ammo. I found only two clips but I’m sure I’d find more on the way. “Talk to me, Natey. Sam? Where are you guys?” I asked, slipping the gun over my shoulder and tightening the strap a bit.

‘Trying to get to the exit but I keep running into guards!’ I heard him respond, bullets flying and popping off in the background. I sighed as I jumped from ledge to ledge. Hopping over a railing that landed me in a courtyard. I could hear him groaning and touching it out though. ‘Nothing I can't handle...’

“Sam, how ‘bout you?” I asked as I followed the pathway down to another courtyard. It was beginning to feel like a maze.

‘Well the good news is: I got a gun! Bad news: I’m under a lotta fire and I’m not sure how much longer my ammo’s gonna last me.’ I heard him answer as bullets seemed to soar past his head. My brain started to work out a plan to get us all out. First, I had to grab Sam.

“Where are you, Sam?” I asked, carefully going down a flight of stairs and peeking behind corners. I peered over the railing to see if I could spot either of them but it was too dark.

‘I had to ditch the uniform. Got cornered in the wine cellar on my way out. I’m kinda pinned down here!’ He shouted over the gunfire. My walk picked up into a sprint as I continued to parkour over every obstacle.

“Hang tight! I’m on my way!” I said as I scanned the area for the quickest route to the cellar. Eventually I found myself on a ledge right above the shootout by the cellar. I counted 8 men. ‘Shit.’ I thought. “This is gonna get hairy…” I mumbled as I readied myself. “Sam, I’m here but you’re gonna have to help me out!” I told him.

‘I’ll take the front, you grab the back! Can you handle that, princess?!’ He groaned. As lovely as his voice sounded in my ear, I couldn’t let him distract me. So I scoffed.

“Don’t call me ‘princess’!” I shouted, jumping off the ledge. I landed on top of a thug and snapped his neck, taking his hand gun in the process. As I pulled the gun to shoot another guard, I could see Sam running out of the cellar with his gun pointed, shooting his shots strategically near their heads to disarm them. As a man grabbed his ear, he charged toward him with a jump and the butt of his gun collided with his temple.

“He’s not gettin’ up after that…” he commented before continuing the fight. It didn’t take long for us to clear the yard and I finished the fight, kicking a man behind the knees to bring him down. When I folded him, I brought my fist to his jaw, quickly knocking him out. “Nice!” I heard Sam say as he approached me. I took a moment to catch my breath, nodding as he acknowledged me. I looked up at him and he began to kick around the loose rocks on the ground; like he was trying to find the right words to say something. I had an inkling of what but we didn’t have time. “Hey listen, uh… Sunny-”

“Not now, Sam. Let’s go get your brother.” I said pushing past him. I began to climb the ledge again and he followed silently.

After a few more minutes of climbing and navigating the tops of the estate, we heard gun shots from below. I ran towards a nearby rail to see a group of men shooting upwards. Hanging from a broken awning was none other than my best friend. “Sam lookit! It’s Nathan!” I said pointing in his direction. He raked his hands through his hair looking around for a way up. “We gotta help him.” A wave of worry spread over me and Sam placed a comforting hand on my shoulder, giving it a squeeze and I looked back at his confident eyes.

“And we will. C’mon. There’s a hatch on the roof.” He said, pulling me by the arm. “C’mere. I’ll give you a boost.” He adjusted his pants and grounded himself, placing his hands before him. I put my hands on his shoulders and kicked off as he hoisted me in the air. I hung from the short ladder, my arms burning a bit as I pulled my weight up, pushing the hatch back to reveal the night sky. A cool breeze hit me as I climbed onto the roof and I laid flat on my stomach to reach out for Sam. “Are you sure you can hold me, princess?”

“Keep calling me princess and I’ll leave you down there.” I warned him.

“Alright, alright! I’m sorry.” He apologized rather quickly before jumping to grab my forearm, his weight pulling me down a bit.

“Jesus H, do you eat enough?” I asked with sarcasm as I readjusted my positioning to pull him up enough to reach the ladder.

“I had a big breakfast.” he grunted as I pulled him up. The wind began to pick up. We ran towards the end of the roof shouting Nathan’s name frantically.

‘Guys! You’re ok!’ I heard him shout as he dangled from the awning.

“Here! I got a gun! Catch!” With that, Sam took his hand gun and tossed it an incredible distance. By God’s grace, Nathan caught it and Sam cheered in amazement as his brother took several successful headshots.

“Because that would’ve really sucked if you missed.” I commented. He gave me a stupid goofy grin.

“I know right?” he chuckled. I began to shoot him a smile until I heard a bullet fly by us. We looked behind us and there was a guard, pointing his gun at us. Sam tugged at my shoulder to make me duck with him and we began to run. “Nathan, we can’t get to you from here so you’re gonna have to meet us in the ballroom!”

‘Got it! You guys be careful!’ Nathan shouted as he began to climb his way around the building.

Sam grabbed a hold of my wrist as we ran towards the end of the roof. I stopped. He did not. I screamed as I watched him fall over the edge just to see him land safely on the ground with a grunt. “Sunny, what are ya doin’?! You gotta jump!” he shouted at me with urgency. My eyes widened at how high up this roof was.

“I can’t make that-”

“I’ll catch you Sunny but you have to jump!” He shouted, holding his arms out. I began to panic a little when I looked back to see the guard pointing his gun to shoot again. “Sunny!” I heard Sam call. “You gotta trust me, okay? Just don’t think about it- I’ll catch you!” I looked at him with nervous eyes as a shot fired near me again. I took a step back and closed my eyes before leaping off with a squeal. It felt like I was falling forever until I landed in a strong pair of arms. “I gotcha! I gotcha… You’re okay.” He whispered to me gently as he sat me on my feet again. He ran a hand down my arms as I gripped onto his sleeves tightly. I looked up at him and he gave a soft comforting smile. There was a twinkle in his eyes that sent a shockwave through my chest and gave me butterflies. Suddenly, he broke the gaze, looking upwards to glance at the roof. Swiftly, he pulled at the extra hand gun tucked away in the back of my dress and grabbed my waist to pull me close. He turned us both and fired two shots towards the roof. I could hear a body hit the ground with a thud. He got that extra guard. My eyes darted between him and the body and I let out a gasp.

“Holy shit.” I breathed as a smile crept across my face. I could feel a laugh vibrate through his chest before we separated.

“Let’s get goin’...” Sam said nervously before heading down the stairs to the big white doors that led to the ballroom. We pushed the doors open, ready to cut through to the driveway when I placed a small hand on his chest to stop him.

“Sam….” I mumbled and he groaned.

“Oh great…” he said as a room full of guards, blocking the exit, turned to look at us. He grinned as he walked further into the room. “Hey fellas! Don’t suppose you’d just… let us walk on outta here, would ya?” he asked the room, loudly. I rolled my eyes and pushed him behind a table as every single guard began to lift their guns and shoot. I screamed as a barrage of bullets sprayed against the other side.

“Are you crazy?!” I exclaimed, slipping the heavy artillery off of my shoulder.

“I thought I’d give it a shot!” Sam shrugged with a chuckle. I shook my head, fighting off a smile when suddenly something crashed through the window. Crawling to cover behind the desk across from us was Nathan. “Jesus Christ, Nathan!” he exclaimed and Nathan shot us a smile.

“Hiya, guys!” he shouted.

“Sully, where ya at?!” I exclaimed, pressing my ear piece. A bit of static came through before his voice rang out.

‘Jesus! Is that you guys in there?!’ I heard him answer.

“Yeah, Victor! We’re in a bit of a tight spot!” Sam shouted before standing up briefly to shoot a few people before taking cover again. I followed suit, letting bullets spray across the room.

‘You kids need to clear that room before the rest of the cavalry comes in!’ He shouted. I sighed as I took cover. Nathan shot me a look. Thee look.

“Nathan…” I said as the adrenaline began to surge again.

“Don’t worry, Sully. If Sunny can trust me, we’ll make short work of this crowd…”

“Nathan!” I shouted.

“We’ll run it like we used to, okay?” He told me calmly. And I looked at him, nervously.

“Hey guys, whatever you’re about to do, do it now!” Sam shouted as the guards began to fan out. I shook my head as I worked up the nerve.

“Damn you, Nate.” I grunted before hopping over the table, spraying another wave of bullets. I pushed forward until I could approach a guard and knocked him in the head with a gun. Nathan came up behind me as another came my way and disarmed him, relieving him of his shotgun. With Sam’s help, we cleared ourselves a path to the exit. As we took cover behind the marble railing to shoot a few more guards, Sully’s white car crashed into a group of them.

‘GET IN HERE NOW!’ He shouted. Without questioning anything, we fought our way across the fountain covered driveway, dodging bullets and punching goons. Just as I got to the car I felt a burning sensation swipe across my thigh. I cursed as I slid into the car, Sam following behind me and Nathan at shotgun.

“Drive! Go, go!” Sam shouted as Sully started the engine and sped off, avoiding the array of bullets.

[wynx-hates-pedos]

More like Racist Rape Culture Dating Simulator

I...I decided to look up more about the The Super Patriotic Dating Sim game and I am floored. I’m going numb from this level of BS. Do you know how much of an uproar there would be if a male game dev made a game like this? I am absolutely NOT pro MRA but I can feel a strong double standard going on here. If Karlee Esmailli was a man she would not be getting excused nearly as much. This is why so many black feminists speak out against female racists.

This is why in general we need to take it seriously when females make art like this. I’m going to highlight the parts of the article that are the most blatantly pro radfem arguments. I personally find that the scariest part of this article is how...it seems to be casually using radfem rhetoric. “ Karlee Esmailli here, the founder of Immigrant Father Studios. I'm an Iranian-American person, and I wrote a video game to express all my complex feelings towards America, the middle east, and my clitoris. �� And my clitoris. Please say sike. “ I'm proud to present The Super Patriotic Dating Simulator. “ You’re proud to present this. Red flags are popping up everywhere. “ Besides the whole “super spy” thing, you’re just a normal American girl… who’s really horny. Give these fuckers an American ass-kicking, and maybe learn a bit about your body on the way. Just remember the #1 rule of the CIA: always ask for consent. “ Aww lookit the quirky normal Ameican girl who wants to fetishize rape! Isn’t she so relatable ladies!? “Helpful reminders for white people that I*** is not representative of Islam or all middle eastern people“ Cool but you’re still fetishizing the inevitable sexual abuse of these Islamic characters. Your words are meaningless. “ Primarily, our budget is going towards our beautiful art. Our team of artists made all the art on this page, and they're excited to make even more good art. “ -loves America even though it’s being terrorized by Trump as we speak. Ok then. “ Dating SIMs, as a genre, have strong roots in the expression of sexuality. Female characters in many dating SIMs are built as sexual objects for heterosexual male players. I wanted to contribute a grounded, accurate, female perspective to this genre typically dominated by the male gaze. “ So..you’re trying to fix that..by making a female rapist character. Do you ever think before you write things? “ Elodie, the main character, wonders: Why am I not orgasming from just penetration? How do I orgasm? Am I gay or straight? Does my virginity matter? Why didn't anyone tell me about this? “ Please keep LGBT themes out of this mess. As a lesbian I don’t want these. “ To contrast against this grounded discussion of female sexuality, I wanted to subvert the sexual oppression that characterizes so much of I***'s politics. In reality, I***'s oppression of women exists within a patriarchal framework, which subjugates women's bodies, pleasure, and power to men. I found power and strength in an objectified caricature of members of I***. “ And yet...here you are...making a game where the goal is to give the role of the patriarchal leader to a woman. Alright then. “ The tactics of I*** are intended to terrorize. Subversion and comedy are particularly effective against this kind of politics. I want to rob I*** of the terror they work so hard to instill, through this reversal of the sexual narrative. “ This part especially disturbs me. You can’t...stop male rapists by becoming a female rapist. You just can’t. Fuck you. You just admitted that you would try to turn rape into an empowering thing and that’s horrifying. Go to jail. “ While the game directly addresses I***'s gender politics, it is equally informed by my identity as a middle eastern person in modern-day America. The Super Patriotic Dating Simulator is specifically about I*** because of American perception of the middle east. To many white Americans, I*** is just a group of brown boogeymen in the desert. I*** is universally disavowed by Muslims - they are not a representative depiction of Islam. “ Performative attempts at activism here are performative.

“The Super Patriotic Dating Simulator is a satire about this American perception. It's a satire of the dehumanizing, inaccurate, atrocious politics of American perception of middle eastern people. It's a desperate plea that we recognize how harmful that perception is. “ Can it really be called a satire when you agree with this game’s notions that raping the rapist is a valid lesson to teach to sexual abuse victims? Can it really? “Ultimately, my growth and understanding of my sexuality have been informed by my connection to middle eastern culture, American culture, and the conflicts I've experienced living between these two perspectives. “ Radfeminism.exe. Enough said. Anyways to make a long rant short this game is the epitome of radfeminism. It’s saying “Let’s abuse the abusers cuz that will totally abolish ableism!” No. It never will. Listen, I know this may be a hard pill for every radfem on the internet to swallow but...you're still perpetuating rape culture by saying that reverse sexual abuse is good for rape victims. Sorry not sorry but if you think raping the rapists back is valid you're still a rapist. Please get actual therapy instead of fetishizing your rape trauma and telling every single rape victim that a valid form of recovery is becoming a rapist. All the while also fetishizing wannabe slaveowners. Anyone who follows me that thinks this game is ok to support can hit the block and unfollow buttons. All of you. I hope this game never gets made and if it does that it fails pathetically. Also please put Karlee in jail  I also like how she’s censoring the name Isis but is openly admitting to being a female incel and saying how this game is about validating that. Amazing lack of priorities over here.

[cksmart-world]

The completely unnecessary news analysis

by Christopher Smart

April 6, 2021

REAL HOUSEWIVES OF POINT OF THE MOUNTAIN

Some people just have all the good luck. Take a look, for example, at Jen Shah, star of “Real Housewives of Salt Lake City.” It just so happens her favorite color is orange. That's great because Shah could face time in the joint after allegedly scamming millions from old people. According to authorities, this housewife's splashy lifestyle came from a vast telemarketing scheme that defrauded hundreds of seniors over a decade. She'll be rocking a jumpsuit sans the boa, heels, and diamonds. No eyelash extensions, either. Bummer. And no doubt this will be a challenge for the writers of the show, because truth can really screw things up: “Unreal Housewives at The Point of the Mountain?” It's fitting that Shah said this to Access Hollywood about her riches: “The best way to describe it is I’m the Wizard of Oz. I’m like the one behind the curtain that nobody knows exists, but I’m the one making everything happen.” Speaking of curtains, the show looks to be over for this “entrepreneur.” On the bright side, she'll have lively discussions with all the new 'housewives' she'll meet in B Block. And with all her spare time she could write a book: “The Real Education of Jen Shah.” Just think of the book deal and movie rights. Is this a great country or what?

NEVER SAY 'INFRASTRUCTURE' IN MIXED COMPANY

A grouchy and grizzled Salt Lake Tribune editor once said, never use the word “infrastructure,” because nobody knows what infrastructure is, he growled. It could be roads or bridges or sidewalks or toilets or lord-knows-what. Nonetheless, his devious reporters tried every which way to sneak “infrastructure” into their stories when he went to coffee or the men's room. Funny thing, now Republicans in Congress have taken this advice to heart. They don't want to hear “infrastructure” because  — get this — it's Socialist. Who knew? Roads and bridges and sidewalks are Socialistic contrivances financed with public taxes designed to serve the public. Well, you can see right there how terrifying this whole infrastructure business can get. It's little wonder that Utah Congressman Burgess Owens (or is it Owen Burgess?) believes we're living in a dictatorship — in a free country we wouldn't have to worry about such things. Before the current dictator, this country was so free that our infrastructure just kept crumbling. The way things were going, we would be as free as Turkmenistan. True conservatives want toll roads, toll sidewalks and toll toilets. That way, the market would take care of everything without help from people like Vladimir Ilyich Biden.

MATT GAETZ SEEKS SEANCE WITH JEFFREY EPSTEIN

Ghislaine Maxwell insists she never induced high school girls to get naked with Matt Gaetz. But the Florida congressman may name Maxwell as the medium he sought to put him in touch with Jeffrey Epstein, who's spirit continues to float around Florida hotel swimming pools. As it turns out, the upstart congressman from The Sunshine State and the late billionaire womanizer  (or should we say teenizer) have something in common — Donald J. Trump. What is it they say about birds of a feather? Nonetheless, a spokesman said Donald J. Trump doesn't know anyone named Jeffrey Epstein or Matt Gaetz, despite all the fake news photos. Ghislaine is being held on charges of sex trafficking of children that were victims of Epstein, who was found dead in a Manhattan jail cell in 2019. Nonetheless, sources close to Florida hotel swimming pools say they heard somewhere that Gaetz was seeking a séance with the spirit of Epstein in order to get pointers on how to... well, you know. Unfortunately, Maxwell's latest court motion didn't convince a federal judge to grant her bail, which, in turn, put a real damper on the séance. That's sad because Epstein could use the company and Gaetz needs all he help he can get — although he's completely innocent.

Post script — That's it for another historic week here at Smart Bomb where we keep track of all the bad news so you don't have to get so damn depressed. And lookit, there was a bunch of good news this past week: the Easter Bunny came; Matt Gaetz didn't come (no pun intended); the Swedes cancelled an experiment that would cut off sunlight to Earth to reduce global warning (talk about throwing the baby out with the bath water); and Amazon officials apologized for saying their employees don't pee in bottles because “time off task” can result in discipline (the CDC says touching Amazon packages is probably OK). Among the historic events of the week was the procession of 22 ancient Egyptian royal mummies in Cairo — 18 kings and four queens. The Pharaohs’ Golden Parade, made up of gigantic floats that looked like ancient boats, sailed the mummies from a museum where they had rested for decades to the new National Museum of Egyptian Civilization. Smart Bomb sources reveal that organizers of the Days of '47 Parade watched and wondered how to work mummies into Utah's big July 24 Celebration. Where's Brigham buried anyway?

Well Wilson, the mummy parade is a hard act to follow. So maybe we should just skip that and go for the float boats. Can you and the guys in the band dredge up something apropos to help us sail into next week:

If I had a boat I'd go out on the ocean And if I had a pony I'd ride him on my boat And we could all together Go out on the ocean Me upon my pony on my boat If I were Roy Rogers I'd sure enough be single I couldn't bring myself to marrying old Dale It'd just be me and trigger We'd go riding through them movies Then we'd buy a boat and on the sea we'd sail The mystery masked man was smart He got himself a Tonto 'Cause Tonto did the dirty work for free But Tonto he was smarter And one day said kemo sabe Kiss my ass I bought a boat I'm going out to sea...

(If I Had A Boat — Lyle Lovett)

[yutikyis]

Sea, Sky and Stone

It was a beautiful day. The sky was a sparkling clear blue dotted only by white fluffy cloud. From the tree that she was perched in she could see far to the horizon, the infinite expanses of blue ocean broken only by a single island in the distance. She’d come up here with a book she’d purchased with a trader, a basic overview of the aetheric magic of Eorzea. Most of it was too complex to understand without training but she at least enjoyed the concepts. The ability to make water dance and stones move and fire appear from nothing and to heal injuries like they were never there? What an amazing idea. Yet her attention had been drawn to the island, out there in the blue sea. Her Eorzea. When Yuti had been a kit she’d seen that island in the distance and had assumed it was the real one. After all the world couldn’t be that large a place and she knew Eorzea was close enough to travel to so it couldn’t be that far away. As she got older she realized it could be no such thing. Yet in her mind it was still her Eorzea. An embarrassing little secret held over from childhood. She planned to visit it someday but she wasn’t comfortable enough on a fishing boat to go out that far and no trader was going to indulge a young Miqo’te’s fantasy to see what was probably an uninhabited waste of time.  Still. Still. It was fun to sit here and look out at the distance and dream. Eorzea was somewhere in that direction she knew. A land of kings and magic. Of endless wars against dragons and mysterious ancient civilizations. Supposedly there was a desert, like a beach that spread into the distance like the ocean. A forest that was alive. An entire city of pirates. She couldn’t even begin to think about how that must be like. Surely all the parrots would make a huge mess between the feathers and the droppings?  Her thoughts were interrupted by a pebble thwipping lightly against her head. She yelped and almost went tumbling out of the branch she’d been sitting on. Fortunately she wasn’t that high above the ground and even a relatively graceless MIqo’te like her wasn’t about to be quite THAT clumsy. Stlll, it was a near save from embarrassment. Who...? “Hey! Yoohoo!” Oh. Him. Ehmi'a Futho. She could not stand Ehmi’a which was only fair as the boy couldn’t stand her either. Every time they ran into each other he seemed to make it his life’s goal to get a rise out of her. He’d started with teasing and had gradually moved up to hair pulling, pebble-throwing, and in one situation literal mud-slinging. It seemed to amuse him every time she stormed off in a huff. Plus that infuriating nickname. She had no idea why he’d started it but he seemed to take perverse delight in using it.  “It is Y-Y-Yuti,” she said in an attempt at an unbothered voice, feeling the frustrating aggravation of her stammer more now than ever.  It would be so much easier to deal with Ehmi if she could just tell him off instead of having to fight through her own speech. “A-and I’ll a-ask you t-” “Yeah, yeah, you’ll a-a-a-ask m-m-m-e and by the time you get through it we’ll both be old n’ grey,” the boy interrupted a toothy grin. He was of the make of most of the men on the island. Tall and broad compared to the average Miqo’te, with dark skin and muscles born from hard work helping his father, one of the village’s fishermen. He towered over her easily enough that even if she wanted to take her mother’s advice about bullies (”Punch ‘em in the face, ya stupid girl”) seriously it would be like hitting a tree. Not to mention that he was always surrounded by an entorage of other Miqo. Today it was two boys and a girl, all of whom giggled at his teasing. Yuti felt her cheeks grow red as she hopped down from the tree branch, tucking the book beneath her arm and giving the boy an annoyed glare. “What d-do you w-want?” she said tersely. Four words was easy enough to get out without getting interrupted. Ehmi responded by grinning at her, wrapping his arms behind his head, ears twitching in amusement. “Well, we’re bored and we saw ya sittin’ there, so we figured we’d come and bug ya. More interestin’ than starin’ at the fish. Barely,” he finished with another group guffaw. Yuti turned even redder and clasped her book tightly to her chest, which only seemed to make the group laugh more. “J-just go a-away, Ehmi,” she said softly. “I was reading.” Ehmi snorted and stepped forward quickly, and before she could stop him, had plucked the book from between her arms and was studying it curiously. “Why’re ya wastin’ your time with alla this nonsense? It’s a bunch of foreign junk. Ain’t gonna help you becoming a hunter.”  Yuti felt a sudden twinge of panic as her book was stolen from her and she tried to reach for it, but the Miqo’te boy just lifted it above his head, out of her grasp. “I’m n-not going to be a hunter,” she huffed. “G-give it back!” Ehmi snorted “S’not what your mama says,” he teased back. “You want it back? Come and get it.” He waggled the book just back in reach and then yanked it back as she grabbed for it, forcing the girl to go after him. Yuti flailed at him, trying to reach up and grab for the book, but he blocked her every time. First by twisting and turning his body and holding it out of reach, and then by playfully holding his hand against her forehead, pushing her away as she tried to get close enough to hop up and snatch the book. Her face was growing redder and redder, tears coming to the corners of her eyes despite her best attempts to fight it off. It was humiliating. She knew what her mother would have done. She’d have hit him right in his smug face. Yuti couldn’t do that though. Not even if she wanted to. She didn’t have the muscle. She couldn’t even make the boy stand still. Ehmi skipped out of reach of her and pulled the book down, opening it and studying it curiously, his eyes dancing over the pages. “Seriously, Yoohoo, this is all a wastea time. Lookit this? Somethin’ about water?” He took the page and tore it out and Yuti let out a horrified squeak. “We got plentya water here, ya don’t need to be thinkin’ about somewhere else.” He crumpled the page into a ball and tossed it out into the sea. “Air? Plentya that too. Maybe ya’d enjoy us more if you paid attention to what was around ya.” There was a slight anger to the boy’s voice. Another page torn, balled up, and tossed away.  It was a nightmare. Those were important pages. She didn’t even know if she’d read them yet. She felt the helplessness and frustration and anger building inside of her. “S-stop it...” she pleaded with him, balling her fists tightly, tears streaming down her cheeks now. The others were laughing, the sound ringing in her ears, seeming to fill her head. She wanted to run away but if she did they’d probably tear every single page out of the book. Only Ehmi wasn’t laughing now. If anything he looked annoyed and angry himself.

“Quit blubberin’ Yoohoo! You ain’t missin’ anything! You got everythin’ in this stupid book right here anyway. You got water, you got air and you got...” he reached the next page and tore it out. “Stone!”

It was too much for her to take. The helplessness and powerlessness. Seeing her precious book torn to pieces while Ehmi mocked her, while his friends laughed at her. None of them understood the wonderous things the books spoke of. She closed her eyes and fought the urge to scream. Nobody was going to help her. They were going to ruin her book. She couldn’t do anything. She... And she felt it. A tingle. A strange tingle that seemed to run through her entire body. Starting somewhere deep in her core and seeming to spread out through her limbs. A warm and comfortable feeling. She felt the energy as it danced through her limbs and into the earth beneath her. She felt the earth too. She’d never been aware of it before but the ground beneath her was alive. There was life in it too. A vast swell of life. The air, the ground, the sea, all of them were living beings. Ehmi was right. She did have stone. She could feel the stone beneath her. Feel its desire to move and shake and reshape itself. The island might seem immutable and unchanging but rather it changed every day. Pieces moved or crumbled or reshaped themselves. The island as it was today was not as it was a moon ago and it wasn’t how it would be in a sun. It *wanted* to change. It could change. With a little help. So she helped it. That was all it took. A little push. Ehmi was reaching for the next page and she wanted to stop him. The ground wanted to move. The two ideas were in unison... and so it happened. The stone beneath Ehmi’a’s feet suddenly shot upwards in a sudden swell, sending the boy flying into the air with a yelp, tumbling head over heels, over the small cliffside and into the ocean with a loud splash. The book slipped from his hand as he flew, falling to the ground with a tiny thump. The laughter stopped as Yuti’s eyes opened. The other three members of Ehmi’s little gang had stopped laughing. They stared at Yuti with wide and frightened eyes, their mouths hanging open, three near-identical expressions of shock. Ehmi was bobbing up and down in the ocean, his hair plastered to his face, utterly bewildered as he looked up. Yuti bent over and picked up her book, feeling her heart racing as she did so. Had she just...?  “Yoohoo... w-what the Hells?!?” Ehmi called up at her as he paddled over to the cliff. One of his friend started to approach the cliff but stopped as Yuti made her own way over. It seemed like he didn’t want to risk being sent over either. The red-haired Miqo’te’s expression was nervous and excited at the same time.She held the book tightly to her chest as she looked down at Ehmi’a. “... The name is Yuti,” she said clearly and firmly and then turned and walked primly away, a happy little smile on her face. It was only once she was out of view of the quartet of confused Miqo’te that she began to run. Feeling the excitement and warmth and happiness flooding her, the sense of hope, of delight. For now that she knew what to look for she could feel it. Feel the aether around her. Feel the magic that permeated the world.  She could feel her future spreading out before her.

[ishouldprobablybewriting]

Heavy Hitters- Chapter One

Heavy Hitters: Outlaw Country pt 1

Sara convinces an old friend to join the Waverider team- as research and tech guru only, or so she said. As the newbie struggles to adjust to the team and the team struggles to adjust to her, Sara is playing a different game all together. One the new girl might not like too much.

Fandom: Legends of Tomorrow (or Flash or Arrowverse since it’s Mick Rory, but specifically LoT)

Pairing: Mick Rory x Plus Size OFC (cause Mick totally likes thick ladies)

Word Count: 2806 

Tags/Warnings: Language, Cannon violence

A/N: Yall. This shit is legit, just the first ten mins of the episode. Anyways. Starts out with  2x6: Outlaw Country and follows it almost word for word with the new OC of course. Not much interaction between Emily and Mick in this one but more to come soon. Lemme know what you think.

Sara watched the young woman who recently joined their merry band of misfits from the desk in the library. Her arms crossed tight across her chest and the blonde took in the soft figure of the newbie as she spoke quietly with Gideon on her tablet, pulling books here and there.

“I know you’re staring,” the brunette smiled over her shoulder.

Sara chuckled softly and pushed off the desk leaving the Ray and Amaya to discuss Nate’s findings with him. Her accent never seemed to stand out but it never quite let her fit in either, especially with everyone else on their team being from the city. It always made Sara smile, though. Steady steps brought her closer to her friend and the hologram she was talking to. “Adjusting alright?”

The larger woman shrugged a shoulder and twisted her body, “As well as can be expected I s’pose.” She bit the inside of her cheek, a tick Sara knew meant she was her considering her next words carefully. Her green eyes shifted slightly behind Sara, towards the others and back quickly. A small smile on her lips, she spoke softly “I uh… I don’ think the others like me very much.”

“Nah,” she drew, “just gotta give’em time. They’ll get used to you before you know it!” Sara’s easy smile did little to ease her companion.

“You’re wrong, Sara. Sweet, bu’ wrong. They can tell, ya’ know. That I’m not like them, I’m notta fighter-”

“Yes. You are, Emily.” Her voice soft but tone leaving no room for arguing- not that never stopped the other woman before.

“Sure, I am.” Sarcasm clear in Emily’s tone, “ A fighter tha’ don’ fight. Helluva lotta good Imma do when shit goes tits up.”

Sara opened her mouth to rebut when Nate’s machine went off.

Nate rolled dramatically back in his chair, “Saved by the aberration!”

“Oooh! What's the trouble-alert say?”

“I told you not to call it that, Ray,” Sara sighed as she took a few long strides to join them.

“Where’s the problem?” Emily calls, stepping up quickly and standing by Sara.

Nate gives her a sideways glance as he grabs the tablet attached to the machine. “The time quake’s epicenter is Liberty, Colorado, 1874.”

“Huh! Back to the wild west,” Ray beamed.

“You guys were in the old west?” Nate glanced between Sara and Ray.

“Yeah, town made me sheriff.” To his credit, Ray was at least attempting to control his pride.

“That’s cool, huh.”

“Alright,” Sara stood, “Well I will go tell Jax and Stein. Who wants to go tell Rory?”

“Not it” the boys chime, making a swift exit and leaving a confused Amaya and Emily in their wake.

“What?” Emily just shrugged her shoulders at Amaya’s question and turned to seek out Rory. “Okay, guess we’ll do it,” she muttered following Emily out.

While Nate had his hat fabricated, Ray walked in and joined him in the small silver room. Ever nosy, he picked up a folded paper he spotted by Nate’s clothes. “Huh, whats this?”

Nate turned hastily as he heard the paper crinkle, “Oh that's nothing,” taking a quick step towards Ray, “Don’t open- you don’t have to open- and you opened it. Okay.” The paper unfolded to show a rather impressive sketch of a masked superhero with a star on his chest and boots on his feet. “Commander Steel!!” was scrawled beside the character, underlined twice. He placed his hands on his hips and waiting for Rays comments on his drawing.

“Did you draw your own superhero costume?”

Nate shook his head in denial, opening his mouth and shutting it again a few times before he finally got out “Absolutely not- yeah I did. And I only did because when I steel-up my clothes stretch out and they fit all weird and besides,” he still couldn't look at Ray, though, looking at the door seemed an improvement to the floor, “ Don’t I deserve a suit?” He finally chanced a glance at Ray. “I mean, am I just the research guy here or? Ya know. And isn’t that what we have Emily for now?”

“No, no. I- I know what it’s like to be the rookie. Just uh, just follow my lead and you’ll be fine out there.”

That struck a cord in Nate. Specifically, a competitive one. “Well, I know a few things about the old west.”

“Like for instance,” Ray casually cleared his throat, “Nobody says ‘Howdy’,”

“Uh huh,” Nate nodded.

“And uhh… You know how to ride a horse, right?”

“Yeah, I can figure it out.” He waved the revolver in his hand a bit, “Is this loaded?”

Ray mostly held in his scared expression, “Yes.”

“It is? Oh!” Thankfully that was enough for Nate and he put the gun down, shooting a wink at Ray.

Emily knocked softly on the door to Mick’s room, Amaya standing just behind her. “What?” He barked at the opened the door, beer in hand.

Amaya stiffened slightly, still not used to his loud mannerisms. Emily had adjusted to that her first day on the ship. “Nate’s machine found an aberration,” she told him, “Epicenter is in Liberty, Colorado, 1874.”

A large grin split the large man's face, “Hot damn! I love the wild west!” Emily nodded and Amaya give him a questioning look as they both took a step back to leave. Mick chugged the rest of his beer and let out another cheer as the girls walked towards the fabrication room to get dressed themselves.

With everyone suited up and the Waverider successfully hidden away, the seven saddled onto horses and trotted towards the town. Or at least, six of them did. Nate seemed to find horseback riding impossible. “Uh guys, I think my horse is broken!” he cried as they stopped at a clearing overlooking Liberty. Luckily, his horse followed the others regardless.

Emily rolled her eyes a bit and pulled up next to him. “Calm down, Nate. He’s reactin’ to ya nerves.” She reached out and grabbed the reins to steady him. “There. Now tuck your hips a bit and try to keep your balance. You should be fine as long as you don’t spook ‘im. Alright?”

Nate sent her a small but grateful smile.

Mick glanced back at the scene before looking towards Jax, “Where's the professor?”

“Uh, he's feeling a little off.” he covered.

“More whiskey from me.” Mick rasped.

Before he could finish his sentence, the group heard loud hollering from down the hill. “Sounds like a commotion of some kind,” Amaya pointed out.

Sara started to dismount, “Pull back, let's get a better look.” The rest of the team followed suit, Nate with a little annoyed huff, as she grabbed her rifle. The team crept towards the sounds.

Emily kept her footsteps silent. It looked like three men standing around one on a horse with his hands tied and a noose around his neck. “Ha ha!” one let out, “Lookit him up ther’ boys!”

Mick stepped up beside Sara as she pulled out a spyglass. “Ah! It's a hanging!” Emily sent him a short glance, Did he sound happy about this?

Sara watched as one of the men ripped a pale bag from the captive’s head, “Is that Hex?” She lowered the spyglass in disbelief.

Amaya looked from Sara to the man and back, “You know that man?”

“We gotta help him,” she sighed.

“But we gotta take this crew out first,” Jax spoke up.

Ray shook his head slightly, “They look armed.”

“Don’t worry guys, I got this.” Nate stepped up and ran off, Jax glared after him but couldn’t react quick enough to stop him.

Emily hissed, “Nate!” She groaned when he ignored her.

One of the crew- the ring leader, Emily figured- spoke up. “Well, well, well! You look a loooot less mean with tha’ noose around ya’ neck. Don’cha’, Hex?”

Emily couldn’t quite make out what the man- Hex- said, but his voice was deep and rough.

“Looks pretty finished to me!” the ringleader yelled, “Do,’cha’ think boys!” They all laughed loudly, until Hex’s boot caught the man hard in the jaw. Emily spotted Nate walking calmly and purposefully up from behind the horse. “You sonnova bitch!” the man hollered towards Hex.

“You might wanna slow down there,” Nate said, drawing unnecessary attention to himself.

Emily shook her head, Welp. Good thing he can “steel up”.

Taking a few more steps towards the small mob, Nate attempted a terrible “western” accent, “These here parts aren’t big enough for the-” he quickly counted- “five of us.”

Emily and Sara both groaned silently at their teammate.

“Who tha’ ‘ell are you?!” the ringleader sneered.

Hex looked over his shoulder, “What he said.”

“On second thought, I dun’ give a damn!” he screamed as he cocked and aimed his pistol squarely at Nate’s chest. Just as he fired, Nate flinched and brought up his hand, steeling just in time to block the shot. Not to be deterred so easily, the ringleader, along with the rest of his men, continued shooting at the metal man. Nate began to laugh as he continued to block each bullet.

Emily inwardly cringed as each bullet bounced with a high pitched ting and the group looked on to see how Nate handled this.

Unfortunately they couldn’t wait for long, or rather, Hex couldn’t. All the shooting had spooked the horse which ran off without thought of the man on its back. Hex let out a strangled cry as the rope tightened around his neck and he began to swing in the gunfire. Sara cocked her rifle and took aim just above the swinging man. “Hold still, Hex” she muttered as Nate caught a bullet aimed at this head between his teeth and turned back into a flesh and blood man grinning proudly. He spit out the bullet.

Emily pursed her lips at his antics and everyone waited as Sara took her shot, hitting the rope. It wasn’t enough to sever it clean through but it was enough to fray it so the weight of Hex’s squirming body would break what was left. Hex fell to the ground with a loud thump.

Ray smiled at the scene. Mick looked mildly impressed behind Sara, “Nice shot.” Emily nodded silently in agreement.

Hex scrambles to his feet and charges the ringleader knocking him to the ground and kicks him hard when he tried to regain his footing. Nate shows up beside Hex, his shitty accent still in place, “Now you get up on that horse and you ride till you feel like you can’t ride no more,” Hex, still catching his breath, turns to glare at the stranger. Nate continues, “And then,” he cocks his gun waving it enthusiastically and ignoring Hex’s incredulous gaze, “Ya’ ride some more. Now go on! Get!” Nate hollers and fires towards the man’s knees then twice more into the air hooting as the man ran away. He lets out one more holler as he turns to face Hex, “Ooh! Aaahhh- face.”

Hex looks at him openly, “What?” It was a silent dare. One that Nate was at least competent enough to recognize.

“Nothing,” Nate shakes his head pulling a tight expression to keep himself from saying something he shouldn’t, “No, nothing.”

Hex huffs and turns towards the footsteps of the approaching team. “Aw, hell.” he growls. Sara lead the way, her life-saving rifle over her shoulder. “They’re back!”

Sara nodded her head towards him. “Always a pleasure, Jonah.”

“Wish I could say the same. The hell’s wrong now?”

Sara smirked and nodded her head back towards the Waverider. “Hoping you could tell us. Let's head back and chat at the ship.”

The ride back was mostly silent, save Nate gushing as nonchalantly as he could to Ray about how cool his little stunt was. Emily, who Nate was riding with in order for Hex to have his own horse, had half a mind to take off in a canter knowing that Ray probably couldn’t keep up and that Nate would be too terrified to brag. He’d be too busy screaming. The fact that it would have been directly in her ear was the only thing keeping her from doing it.

Their boots clanked against the metal flooring as they walked through the ship. “Saved by a filly,” Hex remarked, “Ain’t that somethin’?”

“A simple ‘thank you’ would suffice.” said Sara, half a step in front of him.

“How’d ya’ know I needed savin;?” he asked.

“Because,” her steps slowed as they reached the bridge, “we got an alert that history was about to be changed and the coordinates lead us to your hanging.”

Hex followed Sara into the study as Mick and Amaya joined them, “Well I guess it’s nice to know tha’ I matta’.”

“Leaving already?” Mick gruffed as he walked up the steps with Emily a few steps behind him. “I didn’t get to shoot anybody!”

Emily let out a soft laugh and covered her smile as she took her place by the round table in the center of the room.

Hex looked at some of the new artifacts on the shelves lining the walls and made his way over to the liquor cabinet. “I need a drink.” he muttered. “Where’s Rip?”

Sara’s head whipped towards him then she stole a glance towards the other two women in the room. Amaya gave a soft nod while Emily raised her eyebrow in difference. “Hes MIA.”

“Damn,” he drew, “How the hell’d you miscreants manage not ta get yourselves killed without him?” He picked up his glass as he turned to face the rest of the room.

Amaya narrowed her eyes a bit and straightened her back, “Miss Lance has be serving as captain.”

Hex’s eyes went a little wide as he pointed towards Sara.”But- she a lady.” He looked at her, “You are a lady, right?” Emily liked his deep gravely voice a hell of a lot less when he used it to say stupid shit like that.

Sara tilted her head with her hands on her hips, “Ya’ know know I could take your life just as easily as I saved it, right?” A small smile played on her lips as she blinked up at him. It would have almost looked kind, maybe even innocent.

Emily chuckled biting her thumbnail with a small smile. Even Mick let out a small huff of a laugh from his seat in the corner.

“Oh. Flattery.” Hex raised his drink to his lips, “Looks like this breakers in for a wild ride.” He took an appreciative look at Sara.

“Too bad this filly's into other fillies, right? Ha ha ha ha.” Mick grinned despite his laugh being fake. Emily took a mental note, narrowing her eyes slightly at him, and filed it away for later.

Hex flinched in shock, “Ya’ don’t say?”

Tired of the topic of conversation, Sara rolled her eyes and took it over, “So, how’d you end up in the noose?”

“Well, was collectin’ a bounty on a pissant by tha’ name a’ Quentin Turnbull.” He set down his drink and turned his full attention to the captain.

“As in Turnbull country?” Nate asked jogging up the stairs.

“Never heard of it.”

“Thats because its not supposed to exist.” He help up the thick blue book in his hand. “This book has changed since the last time I saw it. Check this out, Gideon-”

“Right away,” the AI answered.

“Thats a map of the United States from 1876.” Gideon projected an old map onto the screen. The western most third outlined in red with “Turnbull Country” written in bold black letters across it.

“Well that’s not right,” Emily deadpanned under her breath, earning a small laugh from Mick. She looked over her shoulder at him and raised an eyebrow. He took a sip of his beer and maintained eye contact, refusing to back down even from something as small as this. She hummed softly to herself. Interesting. I’ll file that away too, then.

“Alright,” Sara leaned forward, placing her hands on the desk in front of her, “Who’s Turnbull?”

“Some two-bit, yella-bellied, cattle wrestler.”

“Who,” Nate interjected, “controls all the land west of the Rocky Mountains.”

“Looks like we found our aberration,” Amaya stepped closer to the screen.

Hex knotted his brow, “Am I supposed to have the faintest idea what that means?”

“It means that we need to stop Turnbull,” Sara explained, “from taking over the west.”

That got Mick up and out of his seat. He stepped up to the table between Nate and Amaya, “Looks like you got yourself a posse, partner.”

Hex closed his eyes and blinked slowly at his comment. Sara just smiled, finding Hex’s forced cooperation just as funny as everyone else did- save Hex, that is.

Tags:

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Let me know if you want to be tagged though! 

[reapers-carino]

i feel like junkrat is protective by nature with just about everything, especially his s/o. what sould happen if he felt threatened that someone would try to steal them away from him?

“I’ll get us another drink”, you hummed happily, grinning as you pushed yourself away from the table.

“Alright darl”, Junkrat practically sung, leaning over and pressing a hard kiss to the side of your head. You giggled, wiggling as he began to litter softer, smaller kisses to your cheek before you stood up, his hand rubbing your back lightly. “Get anythin’ ya want sweets! Everythings going on Hog’s tab!”

Your brow shot up curiously, looking to the large bodyguard, receiving a slight shrug and a snorted grunt. That was as much confirmation as you were probably going to get, eyes lighting up giddily. Junkrat tittered maniacally, your own giggle twinkling as you skipped away from the men to get a refill on all of your drinks. The watering hole you had stopped in rested close enough to ‘civilized’ society that you didn’t have to worry about all the liquor being irradiated, and  the establishment was surprisingly clean, not new or shiny but comfortable. It was still packed full of the same types of people you’d expect in the middle of the Outback, but even then you didn’t expect things to go too awry . You knew how to handle yourself fairly well, plus you had come in flanked by the infamous Enforcer and his infamous demolitionist employer. That should afford you protection enough.

Sauntering up to the counter, you bounced on the balls of your feet while you waited for the barkeep to notice you. When you did, you quickly placed an order for the same three drinks you had gotten before; a dark stout in a ridiculously large mug for Mako, a strong hard cider for Junkrat and a bubbly lemonade-vodka blend for you. You continued bouncing as you waited for the old man behind the bar, leaning your elbows into the bar and humming a nondescript tune under your breath, not noticing the two other Junkers that stumbled up behind you.

“Wouldya look at the ass on that one. Real nice, ain’t it mate?”

“Fuck yeah, nice ‘n tight, yeah?”

A shiver rolled down your spine, their voices close and purposefully loud and thrown in your direction. You glanced to the side, revulsion making your stomach flip as the one nearest to you caught your eye and winked. Your nose wrinkled, head turning to the side as you exaggerated your movement to show your lack of interest. Your amused bouncing had stopped, arms crossing over your chest, tapping your foot slightly. The bar tender’s back was to you as he worked through your order, Hog’s and Jamie’s drinks already on a small tray, yours being shaken in some kind of silver tin.

“Ohhh lookit, she’s a fuckin’ prude.”

“Little bitch just needs some right dick and I’m sure she’s be purring nice and sweet for us.”

You resisted the urge to shout the vitriolic statements that rolled on the back of your tongue, not wanting to start a bar fight, just wanting to get your drinks and spend time with your boyfriend and his best friend. But that didn’t mean you had to just stand there and take everything.

“Fuck off”, you huffed out, eyes lighting up as the bartender set your drink on the tray and turned with it, lightly placing it in front of you. Finally you could get out of here. Grabbing the edges of the platter, you smiled appreciatively at the bartender. “Thanks!”

Turning with the drinks you almost stumbled backwards, careful not to spill the beverages you held in front of you. The two taller, drunk men stood mere inches from you, blocking off your path back to the table. You tried to peek around them but they shifted, dipping their faces closer to yours and pushing you a step back.

“Eyy missy, you ignorin’ us?”

“Yes I have to get back to my boyfriend”, you huffed out, fixing them with an irritated glare. “Now move. Please.”

The ‘please’ was to appeal to some kind of decency the two men had but it only earned you a sneer. The greasier of the pair leaned even closer towards you, his hand lifting to grab at your face, your eyes going round as you were unable to move.

“Now c’mon y–oy!”

“The lady said hands off.”

The man leaning towards you was suddenly thrown back, landing hard on his ass, Jamison standing over him. There was venom in his bright orange-yellow eyes, your Junker growling menacingly as he stepped over the felled man and put himself between the harassers and you. His hand stroked at your face briefly, the deadly serious anger in his face flickering to worry as he looked you up and down. A silent question of if you were okay was met with a half nod of the head, a relieved smile settling onto your lips.

“Hey! Fuck off cunt!”

You watched the look of absolute malice slip back onto Junkrat’s face, his metal hand lightly stroking your cheek before he turned back around. He rolled his shoulders, standing to his full height, fists clenched at his side. Gone was the nervous, bouncing energy Junkrat normally embodied, taking a backseat to the fiercely protective, possessive nature the man had. What was Junkrat’s was Junkrat’s, he didn’t like sharing and he didn’t like people that threatened what was his. He was used to having so little so when he got his hands on something that he wanted, truly wanted, he was not going to let it go for any amount of money in the world. It made you feel safe, irreplaceable, chasing away any doubt that he truly wanted and loved you. You were his greatest ‘treasure’ and he wouldn’t let some garbage make you feel unsafe.

“Now you whackers, you either fuck right off or I’ll shove one of me bombs up yer ass and we’ll see how much ya fucking talk when yer entrails are painting the walls.”

[grimfangsmaw]

OC Story: Corus

So I’ve had this story sitting in the wings for a while. I’ve continued to tweak and retweak it. Basically the story of Corus discovering his abilities. Like Note, who belongs to @fedoraspooky, who has the ability to shape and manipulate paper, Corus has abilities, too. Being a pacifist, though, makes it a little troublesome. Anyhoo, hope you like! 

The Birth of Fire 

The day had started out splendidly, especially given that the Magician's District was celebrating their hundredth anniversary since its founding. Corus had arisen early to observe the festivities and fairs that clogged the city with bright energy and sound. He watched from the balcony of the small flat he'd rented as wizards and witches rushed past on brooms and other strange flying apparatus. Sorcerers, magicians, illusionists flooded the streets and sidewalks as vendors and entertainers mingled, both selling  their best in performance and goods. The smells alone were enough to make one giddy; the bakeries had doubled the size of the interior of their shops (while still remaining the same size outwardly so as not to crowd the other buildings), yet they were still full to bursting with cues that stretched all the way 'round the block. There were taffy-pullers, candy-makers, confectioners all. The celebration was sure to last all week, perhaps all month if this level of enthusiasm kept up. This had been the precise reason Corus had even decided to visit the Magician's district this time of year, nevermind that the train ticket prices had inflated considerably due to the event. Sadly, Note wasn't present. Corus found everything positively smashing, and yet slightly empty without his notebook-headed friend around. In his own grouchy way, Note implied that money was too short and he wasn't fond of crowds, least of all the celebratory kind that got in your face, spilled drinks on you, and left you with all manner of sticky substances on the bottoms of your shoes by the end of the day. Note could be frustratingly stubborn at times, but he was still the best friend Corus could ask for. He balanced out Corus' unwavering optimism and had a tendency to keep him grounded. Corus was a daydreamer and had a tendency to float off in thought if left to his own devices. The flame within his lantern head flickered and swayed back and forth as he thought of his friend. That was when he'd gotten the brilliant idea to find Note a souvenir. Perhaps his friend couldn't come to the Magician's district, but Corus could certainly bring some of the Magician's district to Note! It would have to be something small, of course, unobtrusive, but interesting enough to leave a lasting impression on his otherwise surly friend.

At least...that had been the plan.

Everything had turned pear-shaped so quickly, Corus wasn't certain as to where things had gone wrong. The men had come out of nowhere -- given that this was the Magician's district, that shouldn't have come as a surprise. But winding up in the dead end of an alley with three warlocks standing at the only exit hadn't quite been expected, to say the least. Any self-respecting gentleman at this point would've at least made the attempt to push past them. Unfortunately, Corus was a gentle soul and a pacifist above all else. He strongly abhored senseless violence, believing in the power of spoken words to solve most problems. Note had chided him for being naive in the past about such matters, stating that -- like it or not -- sometimes violence was the only possible answer, and that ruffians were about as likely to be talked out of their nefarious dealings as a cat could be talked out of catching mice. It just wasn't plausible. In some cases, Corus begrudgingly conceded. This was, perhaps, one of those times, and he now greatly regretted not simply paying for Note's ticket and dragging him along with him. Note was a terror with a sword and generally came to his friend's aid before he'd even registered he might be in danger, something Corus often admired but never envied. Standing with his back against a wall, however, made him briefly consider taking lessons in pugulism when he returned home.

The men approached Corus, malicious grins beginning to spread across their faces.

If  he returned home. Corus hadn't considered that these men might be out for blood on top of coin.

The warlock in the middle spoke.

"Rotten luck, mate. Looks t'me like ye've gotten lost in all the commotion on the streets. Don't he look lost, Sponger?"  He was a lanky-looking character, like he'd been stretched from his long feet all the way to his bright blonde hair.

"Aye, Twigs. Tha' is an unfortunate 'appenstance, idn't it?" Said the one on the left, much shorter than the middle one and with a somewhat mole-ish appearance.

"These object-thingies is always gettin' themselves lost. Lookit 'is 'ead, he ain't go' no brains in there. No suprise there, eh?" Tittered the one on the far right, who had disproportionately long fingers in relation to the rest of a rather stocky body.

Corus pressed himself against the wall, attempting uselessly to phase through it, notes of purple mixing in with the usual pale orange of his flame.

"Too right, Snag." The middle one, called Twigs apparently, nodded somberly, "S'a wonder they ain't been leashed yet. Me gran's poodle's got more brains."  

Specists.

Corus had had encounters once or twice with humans who believed themselves to be superior to the other races that inhabited Amalgam. Humans who believed that their evolution was somehow divine and that all other beings were lesser creations formed from leftovers and rejects of whatever lord they worshipped. Being of the scholarly sort, Corus knew full-well that evolution was a scientific fact and that the changes in any biology were strictly so that beings could better exploit their habitats. What exactly that meant for object-heads, he wasn't sure. But it proved the point that he had just as much right to exist as the next person, whether they had a skull or a lantern for a head.  He somehow doubted that this would make much sense to these three, however.

Regardless, bravery was worth a try. Corus squared his shoulders, "Forgive me, gentlemen. If you'll excuse me, I was just leaving."

Apprehensive as he already was, he still made an attempt to simply brush past them, hoping to have caught them off guard by displaying nonchalance rather than fear. Unfortunately, as he set foot just past Twigs, their hands were on him in an instant.  Wrenching his arm, he was swung against the wall so hard his head knocked against it with the sound of ringing iron, the glass panels of his head vibrating.  His breath was completely knocked from him, the flame in his head sputtering as he tried to reopen his diaphragm. "And where are you going?!" Twigs shouted in his face, spit flecking the panes of Corus' face.

Snag pulled out a flickknife, "He finks we're dumb or somefing..."

Corus balked, his flame turning completely purple, "Oh, no. No, please. I-I'm sorry, I'll give you whatever I have. There's no need for that."

"Oh, we'll take your coin, box-face. But we wanna 'ave some fun doin' it. An' afterwards, perhaps we'll see how much you obje-wot's-its go for on the black market." Sponger snickered, " Or pieces of ye, at least. I've always wondered how you lot work. Where's your skin? Why you got bits o' junk for faces? An' what keeps it floatin' there so easily?"

Corus hands were raised in surrender, his back pressed hard against the stone wall. His flame flicked and sputtered as he tried to control the fear that rose in him. His mind raced with his next move, but all ended with him stabbed and bleeding in the alley with no one to come to his aid. Corus rarely regretted being a pacifist when it came to confrontation, but in this particular instance, he wished he knew how to defend himself. There was a last resort, but he'd never even taken the opportunity to ever see if he could manage it. Most, if not all, Object-heads had the capacity for certain abilities -- generally ones pertaining to their specific make-up. An object-head with a teapot for a head, for instance, might have the capacity to produce and control hot liquids or steam from their own body. Such was the case for Corus' friend Note, who could form objects from paper --- even swords as sharp as any steel --- and whom he dearly wished was here at this very moment showing these ruffians what for. Corus likely had abilities of his own, but had never felt the inclination to find out. Desperate, he strained his will to make something happen. Anything. Even if it was enough to surprise them so he could rush past.

At the same time that nothing happened, everything happened.

Two of them grabbed his shoulders and held him steady while Snag made his move, tracing the blade down Corus' face, scratching the tip against the glass pane of his face, making him shudder at both the horrid squealing sound and feeling. Snag let out a malicious chuckle.

"So ya felt that, eh? Well, then, wot about here?" the blade wandered down to Corus' neck, pressing into invisible flesh, "Now ain't that somefing? An' here I thought there weren't nothin' there."

Tingles rushed through Corus shoulders and back. He wasn't quite sure himself what his body was made of, but at the end of the day, it served as skin. Some scientists speculated some sort of magnetic force roughly in the shape of a human, allowing Object-heads to keep their shape and wear clothing. Whatever the reason, any time it was touched by an external source, there was a spread of pins and needles like poking a limb that had fallen asleep.  Now that rush brought a surge of adrenaline, sending his heart hammering in his chest. He was fairly certain he knew what was coming next.

"Well, if there's skin, there's prob'ly blood, right? So I can't help me curious self. I jus' need t' take a peek at what color ya might be inside." Snag twisted the knife.

Corus cried out as the tip of the blade pierced the space of his neck. What happened next, he wasn't sure and wouldn't be for some years to come. Everything happened at once. An explosive electricity coursing through his body, his vision filling with a bright light; as though dawn was breaking in his head, the shouts of the muggers that quickly turned to screams of terror, an immense warmth that was not altogether unpleasant. Corus expected himself to fall to the ground, but for some time he felt as though he was floating just inches from it. All of this happened in seconds, a tenth of a second, possibly not even that. He'd lost all concept of time or space around him. And just as suddenly as the light of dawn filled his head, it was extinguished, leaving him in inky blackness as the heaviness of his body returned to him.

The sound of wailing sirens and bells filled his ears as Corus broke the surface of consciousness. Strangely, he was no longer in the alley. Somehow he'd moved to a backstreet across from it. His body ached where he'd been pushed into the wall, and his neck throbbed where the tip of the knifeblade had stuck. He touched the wound gingerly, feeling warmth soak through his glove, pulling back to see a stain of pale liquid on his fingertips. It carried with it a faint scent. Kerosene? Perhaps that made sense given that his head contained a gas-powered flame. Flame. Something nagged at the back of Corus' head. That's when the sirens and the bells alerted him as well to the smell of smoke, charred wood and mortar and...something else. Something he couldn't place. He staggered up, reaching for his inside pocket to retrieve a handkerchief for his cut. That's when he noticed his gloves. Blackened, charred, and missing most of the fingertips. He looked down at his body.  The edges of his clothes were singed, the smell of burning wool suddenly reaching him. He began to feel dizzy, his apprehension at what had taken place mounting.

As he tottered his way to the edge of the street, the scene before him thudded into the center of his body with such impact he was forced to sit down. The alleyway. No, the entire end of the block, had gone up in flames. Wizards and witches were trying desperately to put the conflagration out, but the flames seemed to have a mind and will of their own, springing up again just as they were doused. Black, thick smoke filled the air as a crowd gathered and officers tried to keep people from approaching. The flames rose high, white-hot, notes of pale blue streaking through them like fish swimming upstream. Corus knew they should be orange if they were of a normal origin. But they were not of a normal origin at all, were they? He didn't need any hint to know who'd caused it. He also knew immediately that the three thugs within the alley had been caught in it. That scent he couldn't place he could now identify were he ever to smell it again: burning flesh. As if affirming his thought, the screams suddenly reached him. The thugs had managed to survive the conflagration, but not without paying dearly for it. Their burns would be severe, disfiguring. Corus could feel the intensity of the heat from across the street.  Even magic wouldn't be able to fully undo what he'd just done to them.

He felt shame open a pit in his stomach, shaking. This. This is what he was capable of. In a moment of pain and terror, he had awakened his power. A maelstrom of flames the likes of which was terrifying in its intensity and almost conscious in its tenacity. Flames hot enough to melt brick, metal, flesh. The thugs were lucky. If he hadn't lacked focus, it was likely he would've reduced them to ashes, perhaps even less. Destruction. That's what he had birthed in that moment. More than destruction. Obliteration.  The power to wipe an entity completely of its life, even of its remains. The people of the district were so busy with putting out the flames that they didn't even notice the lantern-headed Object Head get up and flee from the scene. It had been self-defense, but the sheer destruction he'd caused would never convince a jury it had been innocent.  Confusion, fear, and guilt coiled themselves around his heart, constricting it with such ferocity that he feared he might collapse. He had to get out. He had to go home. He would never come back to the Magician's District. Not while this explosive force slept within him without any semblance of control. He would never let this happen again. Ever. He had to learn to control it so that he would never be able to use it. No one could know of what he could do or what he'd done. That Corus, a pacifist and gentle soul, was capable of turning an entire block to ashes simply because he was scared. He had to get back home to his books, to his house, to his friends, his -- Corus tripped over his own feet, stumbled, and landed against a set of crates, knocking them over, the corner of his head hit the cobblestones and rang painfully. He stared at the ground.  

Note.

Note couldn't know. He could never, ever know. Their friendship was dear to Corus' heart. But Note couldn't possibly trust someone capable of weilding such fire, could he?  Fire that could burn so quickly and violently; that could turn Note to cinders in a matter of seconds. Corus shuddered and felt sick, feeling cold regardless of how warm his body ran.  He had to learn control and quickly. Before anyone could find out. He would bury this incident. He would bury it until it became such a distant memory he could continue on with his life without feeling like a felon. He sat up, pressing his handkerchief to the cut on his neck, hissing as it stung. On wobbly legs, he picked himself up and headed shakily to his flat to begin packing.  A small voice, a voice he chose to ignore, told him that nothing good would come of hiding all this. That eventually it would come to light. Not generally one to push reason aside, Corus flung the thought of this ever being revealed as far from himself as he could, leaving it behind him in the alley with the fading sound of sirens.

[infinityknight25]

Lucha Underground: Mess with the Bull part 1

Lucha Underground : Mess with the bull Part 1 Scene: A dingy stair case in an abandoned building. Raven sits halfway up the stairs. Raven: My name is Raven. I've been at the top and the bottom of this business more times than I can count. Paul Heyman invited me here to put the young luchadores to the test. I'm not gonna lie I'm here for selfish reasons. I've been entered into the Jucios des Dioses. Once I win that I get a shot at Brock Lesnar and his Lucha Underground championship. Then it becomes my title. There may be snow on the roof top but with age comes experience. Quote the Raven never more. Scene: The Temple. Ringside is Mat Striker and Vampiro. Striker: Welcome everyone back to the Temple. Tonight is going to be huge. Three big matches. Two of them are first round matches of the Trial of the God's. Two of them are championship matches. That's right one of our Jucios des Dioses matches is for the Extreme title. A bull rope match between the Extreme champion Texano and the crazy Veteran Terry Funk. We will also have a trios championship match. But hey before we go any further welcome back my buddy Vampiro. You took an extra week off without a word. You okay man? Vampiro: I'm fine dude just needed a moment you know. Mat Striker: Totally understand. I can't wait for the Trial of the Gods to begin! Let go to Melissa Santos in the ring. Santos: The Following contest is a Primera Sangre match. The first luchador to make their opponent bleed is the winner and will move on in the Trial of the Gods tournament. Joey Ryan's music comes on. Vampiro: Yo man here comes my dude. Striker: Joey Ryan certainly has been gaining steam as his career seems to be rocketing foward as of late. Enough that Paul Heyman felt he earned a spot in the Jucio Des Dioses. Vampiro: A lot of guys do and some guys don't. I'm not On board with a lot of Heyman's calls and I'll be very vocal about it homes. He's just a bully that hides behind a bunch of muscle. Raven's music comes on. Striker: Well I for one would think these two would be evenly matched in any other kind of bout. However when it comes to blood and pure violence this man, who claims his home is the Bowery. He definitely is a front runner. Vampiro: I can't help but think this was set up man. Ain't no way Paul is gonna let two Lucha Underground guys win two of the biggest events so far this season man. Striker: Calm down bud it was luck of the draw. Well spin actually and Joey Ryan may surprise us in this first round of the Trial of the Gods. Striker: A man who can play mind games with the best of them as well as be a great hardcore competitor. Vampiro: Man I know that it's Heyman pulling the strings and all dude. It's not Raven's fault. He just here to fight like everyone else with that being said this match had potential. Striker: There is no doubt there as Raven is now in the ring with the sleaziest man in the locker room, Joey Ryan. Ryan now lubing himself up like he normally does before a match. I think it's to psyche an opponent out. Which I'm sure normally works but Raven seems unphased and unimpressed. Vampiro: Raven has seen it all man. It's gonna take a lot more than being sleazy to get to Raven. Joey Ryan is gonna have to take the fight to Raven. Striker: And there's the bell Raven goes to tie up with Joey Ryan but Ryan slides out of the ring. Shaking his finger in Raven's direction. Vampiro: Raven ain't gonna like being ducked like that. Uh oh Ryan needs to quit interacting with the crowd man. You gotta keep your eyes on Raven. Striker: Here he comes with a baseball slide! Ryan on the ground now. Raven now pulling Ryan into a sitting position and starting to punch his forehead. Vampiro: Raven ain't no joke man. He's been at this a long time. Look at that exposing part of the concrete there. Striker: Raven goes for a bulldog, but Joey Ryan drops Raven on his back on the concrete! Great counter. Ryan now grabbing a chair. Vampiro: That landing was harsh on Raven's back. He holding it as he gets back up. Striker: Raven resting his head on the apron for a second. Bad idea as Ryan slams that chair on his head. Vampiro: Oooh. Man. That shot is sure to scramble the brain. Striker: Ryan now picking up Raven and Irish whipping him into the turnbuckle. There is no padding on the outside of the post, like there is on the inside of the ring. Vampiro: The outside of the ring is a very unforgiving bro. Ryan now catapulting Raven into the turnbuckle again. Striker: Ryan beginning to punch the forehead of Raven. Raven blocks a punch and now coming back at Joey Ryan with a flurry. Raven now slamming Ryan's head on to the barricade. Trying to make his own way toward Primera Sangre. First Blood for our English speaking viewers. Vampiro: Whoa. Hey lookit  Joey Ryan fights back with a low blow. Completely legal in this type of match bro. Striker: Indeed it is as Joey Ryan is now rolling Raven back into the ring. Raven starts getting up but Ryan does a springboard crossbody taking Raven back to the mat. Vampiro: Ryan knows he's gotta keep coming at Raven to keep things in his favor. Striker: Joey Ryan now propping Raven up in the corner and does a running knee to the face of Raven. Picking him up again. Ryan throws Raven to the ropes and Raven counters with a Lou Thez press and goes right back to work on the forehead of Joey Ryan!!! Vamp. Correct me if I'm wrong but in this type of match you don't have to open the forehead. It can be blood from anywhere right? Vampiro: Absolutely brother. Any blood from any part of the body stops the match. Striker: Raven now with a Russian leg sweep. Raven now going outside the ring, grabbing something from under it. Vampiro: Bro..... that's a bat wrapped in barbed wire. Striker: It sure is. That will definitely draw blood. Ryan up in the ring, bounces off the ropes. Huge dive out of the ring! Vampiro: Big move by Ryan man he just has to make sure he capitalizes on the opportunity right here. Striker: Raven crawling onto the stairs here in the Temple, and Joey Ryan right behind. Picking up Raven and delivering more punches to the head. Oh man! Slamming Raven's head on the railing! Vampiro: Ref's checking Raven's head man that might have did it. Striker: Ref says no blood and Raven kicks Joey Ryan in the gut and slams his head on the railing. Vampiro: Ryan comes back with a clothesline man. Knockin Raven to the bottom of the stairs. Striker: Ryan coming down the stairs quickly to pursue the downed Raven. Raven swings the barbed wire bat while still laying on the bottom steps! Ryan side steps the swing but grabs the top of the bat with his right hand. Vampiro: Man you can see it in his face. Joey Ryan knows he messed up dude. Look at the blood pouring from his hand. That's gonna need stitches. Striker: It sure is and so just like that Raven advances in the Jucio des Dioses. We still have the main event where the Extreme championship and an advancement in the trial of the Gods is on the line. We also have the Trios championship which is coming up next! Scene: Paul Heyman's office. Heyman is sitting at his desk in his typical style of suit. Across from him is Captain Vasquez of the LAPD. Heyman: Look Captain. I'm not sure what has gone on here in the past and frankly I don't care. I'm taking the Temple in MY direction. Yes many of the old traditions are still in place but! I can assure you things are on the up and up now. Vasquez: You can sit here and say whatever you want. I have it on good authority that there are dark things at work here. Heyman: (chuckles) Oh please. What kind of dark things would be going on here? Vasquez throws pictures onto the desk. Pictures of Raven crucifying Sandman. Pictures of Pentagon Dark and Vampiro. Other pictures of bloody wrestlers and wrestlers portraying dark personas. Vasquez: You've brought men into the L.A. area that partake in dark, violent acts. I do not condone crucifixion.... Heyman cuts her off. Heyman: That's entertainment. These guys are here to entertain. They entertain through their acts of violence. People are drawn to dark characters. That's all there is to it. They see Mil Muertes and they go. Hey! This guy's crazy. He will do anything to win the Lucha Underground championship and have control over the Temple. Vasquez: Look all your stuff may be on the up and up to now but I'm going to keep an eye on you. Matanza Cueto still competes here in the Temple. Mark my words! I will stop at nothing till justice is served. Heyman sighs. Heyman: Well I'm sorry you feel that way. As of right now Matanza is an innocent free man who is more than welcome here to fight. As far as justice being served I'm going to ask you nicely or my friend here.... Heyman nods to someone behind Vasquez. She turns to see Rhyno standing just inside the door with his arms crossed and a smile on his face. Heyman: will deliver swift justice as he escorts you to our door. Vasquez: No need. I'm leaving but I'll be back. I've heard stories of how sneaky and shady you are. So do what you do best and watch your back. Make sure... that when I come back..... I'm not coming for you. Heyman sits quietly and smiles as Vasquez leaves the office in a proud, strong manor.

[pannacottawarrior]

gUYS HOLY FUCK I FORGOT TO TYPE THIS SHIT DOWN BUT LIK E

in Psychology on Friday our teacher was replicating Clark's 12 Angry Men study and it involved 12 participants (there were around 14 of us though) looking at arguments for this boy - Emilio Garcia - to be found guilty. and we had to decide whether they were guilty or not guilty. most of us were 1/2 on the matter but most ultimately chose not guilty

and we had a fucking debate on it

it was hilarious

our teacher also never expected most of us to choose 'not guilty' on the prosecution alone, the study said most Ps choose 'guilty' at first but anyway

wE'RE HAVING THIS FULL ON DEBATE;;; I'M THE ONE ARGUING FOR 'not guilty' AND THIS OTHER GIRL'S ARGUING FOR 'guilty' (let's call her Rosie) AND WE'RE BRINGING UP GOOD POINTS AND SHIT AND EVERYONE'S JUST LOOKING BACK AND FORTH BETWEEN THE BOTH OF US GOING LIKE 'oooOOOHHH!!' OR 'DAYUUUUMMM!!!' OR '*G A S P*' WHEN WE SAY OUR BIT IN THE DEBATE; AND I SWEAR TO GOD OVER THE COURSE OF THE DEBATE, SOMETHING ABOUT OUR DEBATE REMINDED ME OF A CERTAIN GAME BUT I SHRUGGED IT OFF

IT WAS HONESTLY REALLY FUN?? BECAUSE I GOTTA ANALYZE THE FUCK OUT OF HOW THE WITNESSES' TIMES DON'T MAKE SENSE AND HOW GOOD A PERSON'S VISION AND AWARENESS CAN BE WHEN THEY'RE RUNNING V FAST IN A POTENTIAL 'OH GOD SOMEONE MURDERED SOMEONE' SITUATION; AND HOW SOMEONE CAN BE SURE THEY EXPLICITY SAW THAT SPECIFIC PERSON KILL THE GUY FROM THE APARTMENT BLOCKS ACROSS THE PLACE OF MURDER AND SHIT

finally we got the arguments for him being innocent and ho ly fuck y'all my points were mostly brought up in this one because lo and behold - the witness who said they saw the guy kill him had bad vision, was sleep deprived and wasn't wearing their glasses at the time

the old man who was 'running' to the room had suffered strokes and shit before and would find it hard to run so fast to even SEE 'Emilio' run away

aND THE TIMES WERE ALL OVER THE PLACE OF COURSE LIKE HOW THE FUCK DO Y'ALL ARGUE AND KILL SOMEONE AT 8PM AND YET SOMEONE SAID THEY ARGUED AND KILLED HIM AT MIDNIGHT AND ANOTHER SAID THEY KILLED HIM AT 12:10AM????

anyway so we're all yelling and screeching like crazy because 'hOLY FUCK PANNA WAS RIGHT' and 'WAIT JUST A FUCKING SECOND-- SHE AIN'T RIGHT, LOOKIT THIS PIECE OF INFO IT AIN'T RIGHT--'

and i'm arguing with Rosie again and it's fucking fun breaking down her argument and analyzing it and saying what's wrong with it and shit bUT LIKE

THIS GIRL

SHE FUCKING STANDS UP ABRUPTLY, SLAMS HER HANDS ON THE FUCKING TABLE AND YELLS

“O  B  J  E  C  T  I  O  N  !  !  !”

AND FUCKING POINTS STRAIGHT AT ME AND ARGUES BACK

we finished the rest of the study with stage 3 and 4 (since most went not guilty we had to change the rules of the stages to better fit our situation)

we never found out if Emilio Garcia was guilty or not

but when our teacher dismissed us after debriefing us on what he was doing and asking us what he was trying to achieve and the observations and shit.

Rosie is like tapping my shoulder and i'm like ?? and she's like 'we still friends?' and i'm like 'hell ye man it was fun debating with you!! ;o; no hard feelings ;v;' and we had a laugh and were agreeing because like holy fuck that analysis and sh i t

and she's like telling me how i should go into Law and shit when i grow up (she told me this over the course of our debate too and everyone was agreeing with her and it was flattering omfggg;;; Rosie if you're out there - God bless you XDD)

and i'm like 'nahh; you should though!! you were awesome out there...which reminds me...' '...? o-o' '...are you into video games...by any chance?'

and she's like 'oh yeah!! i especially love the Ace Attorney series~'

and then she left

i fucking  k n e w  i t